


The Impromptu Zoo: A Story of Love and Dubious Science

by Ricky B (littletoes101)



Category: Baccano!
Genre: M/M, Parody, Please Don't Take This Seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 14:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6054790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littletoes101/pseuds/Ricky%20B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You have to read it to believe it, honestly. This is a crack/parody fic so if you're looking for a laugh you've come to the right place. Basically Dallas becomes surrogate mom for a bunch of animals; think “19 Kids and Counting” but with animals. Oh, and these are de-extincted animals that no one else knows exist. Happy parenting!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Initiation

**Author's Note:**

> this work is a mix of self-indulgent bullshit and comedy gold. someone please stop me

**Episode 1: Initiation**

Dallas Genoard was flat broke.

Okay, that wasn't entirely true. He did have a couple hundred dollars in the bank, but how far was that going to get him, really? His apartment probably cost half of it in rent each week, and then he also had to eat (take out, mostly) and drink (not water either). Especially drink. He was going to do a lot of drinking.

He pondered over his broke-ness as he walked himself down to the corner to grab one of the cheap newspapers. Even though it was the great year of our Lord 2000, not much had changed from the 1930's in the newspaper aspect. There was a lot more photoshop, but other than that, everything was the same.

The “wanted” ads were in the same place as they always were. When Dallas returned home and flopped unceremoniously onto the dirty couch, he thumbed through the paper to get to the ads. Usually, he just skipped over them and read the comics, but today was different. He physically cringed as he forced himself to look at it.

If Dallas was going to uphold his promise of not returning to the mansion if he couldn't make himself descent, he was going to have to get a job. Until now, he'd never been able to keep an actual job. On the rare occasion he was hired, he was usually fired not long after.

He skimmed the ad for only a few seconds before he found one that caught his eye. It read: “WANTED: Cat sitter needed to watch cat permanently on a daily basis. Will pay WELL. Come to [insert address here I'm lazy] if interested.” Not exactly a traditional job, no, but Dallas wasn't interested in traditional. He wanted money, and money he would get.

Since it was a Sunday, he decided to wait until Monday to actually go to the address. Dallas told himself it was probably better, being polite and all that, but in reality he'd only done it in order to procrastinate. He hated the idea of actually having to _work_ for someone and _listen_ to them, instead of just doing whatever he wanted. He managed to avoid it until noon, when he was hit with a random bout of inspiration and decided to go.

At least, of all the things in his life, his car still worked. The poor thing had seen better days, but it was still chugging along. It didn't help that Dallas was an incredibly erratic driver, but somehow Old Faithful held on to life by an admittedly small thread.

The road leading down to the home – a three-story mansion – was long and winding. Dallas felt a twinge of envy when he looked up at the meticulously cared-for house, and the immaculate hedges and bushes. Once upon a time, he'd had that too. But, all fairy tales must end eventually, and his had certainly come to a premature and screeching hault – at least, it had in his mind.

When he finally forced himself to walk to the door, Dallas knocked twice. Almost immediately, the door opened, and in front of him stood a child. Well, they certainly  _looked_ like a child. With a stature of about 5' 4'' and a youthful face, he judged them to be no older than fifteen. Good Lord.

“You must be here about the cat,” they said. Their voice, though high-pitched, gave Dallas no indication of gender, so he stuck to “they” for now. “Come in, we have much to discuss.” They reached out with a tan-colored hand and quite literally grabbed Dallas by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him into the house.

There was no indication of a cat, or of any adult figures. The two of them sat down on the couch, with the kid sitting uncomfortably close to Dallas. He considered snapping at them to back off, but he didn't want to ruin his chances. He had  _some_ self-control. A little bit.

He opened his mouth to ask a question, but the kid was already ahead of him. “Call me Dictator. Yes, I'm the one who placed an ad. Yes, I'm a child. No, there are no adults here, I live on my own. And no, there is no cat that needs to be taken care of, I care for my animals on my own.” The kid – Dictator – adjusted their glasses to take a breath. “The ad lied, but I had to get you here somehow.”

“Uh – if that ain't – I mean, if that's not what you wanted, why didn't you just...put that in the ad?” Dallas was confused, and trying not to get irritated. Dictator didn't seem to sense his mood, but did get up from the couch and start to pace in front of him.

“Because, it's not something that can be advertised in the paper,” Dictator said, as if it should be obvious. “I need you to help me, and my company, with a project. More precisely, a de-extinction project.”

Ah, Dallas had heard of those before. Some scientists with a few screws loose in their heads were attempting to bring animals back from the dead, basically. Like, a Frankenstein kind of thing except with extinct animals. Dallas narrowed his eyes. “Okay. You  _do_ know I'm not a scientist?”

“I'm aware,” Dictator replied. “That's unimportant. If I wanted scientists, I have a whole crew at my disposal. Simply put, I need you for storage and boarding.”

“What?”

“I need you to raise some of the experiments. You'll be paid of course,” Dictator assured him. “A good amount. For every week you keep it alive, you'll get fifty thousand dollars.”

With a brain still partially stuck in the 30's, the number made Dallas's head spin. “Fifty thousand – as long as it's alive?”

“Yep.” Dictator nodded affirmatively.

“Have any of your – experiments – actually _lived_?” From what he'd heard, the animals they attempted to de-extinct only survived for a few moments after birth, if they made it that far. Dictator shook their head.

“Not yet. But when we do, you'll be the first to know.” Their eyes met, and Dallas felt like he was staring into the eyes of a tiger. “Do we have a deal?”

A deal they had, indeed. Still, Dallas was unsure when he returned to his dingy apartment in the evening. Dictator said he'd get fifty thousands just for agreeing to the deal, but if none of the experiments had survived so far, would this really be worth it? He also didn't think to ask about  _what_ animals they were attempting to de-extinct; he just figured they'd be small things, like birds or something.

That would come back to bite him in a very short time.

* * *

When he woke up on Friday, Dallas had no idea what he was in for. He was already in a sour mood because he had to chase a rat out of his bathroom, and then had to chase the same rat out of his kitchen later when he made a sandwich for breakfast. So, when he got a knock on his door, Dallas grumbled all the way to open it, dragging his feet across the carpet. Upon opening the door and looking down at the front step, he noticed a rather large box. With holes in it. That looked suspiciously like a live animal crate.

Dallas started to sweat nervously when he saw the tag: “from Dictator.” Oh, dear. He had a feeling this wasn't going to be good.

He decided it would be a good idea to take it inside to open it. Which was a good idea, considering what happened once the box was opened. Setting it on the counter, Dallas pulled off the top of the crate, then peered inside cautiously. He was greeted with a pair of blue eyes, belonging to a saber-toothed cub.

“Jesus Christ – fuck!” Was Dallas's response to that. He stumbled backwards, then tripped over his own feet, which sent him sprawling on the ground on his back. Trying to get his breathing back to a normal level, Dallas almost didn't notice the whimpers coming from the box. The cub wasn't happy from being transported, and at three and a half weeks old, there was only one thing it knew how to do: cry.

The pitch and intensity of the cries startled Dallas; how could such a loud noise come from a tiny creature? Immediately, he got to his feet and looked inside of the box again, trying to soothe the angry baby.

“Quiet, quiet,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “There's neighbors – they can't see you – fuck!” The cub continued to wail, so Dallas figured he'd try to treat it like a human baby. Maybe holding it would help. Dallas picked the already rather large cub up, cradling it in the crook of his arm like a normal baby. Almost immediately, the cub's cries began to quiet, though it still looked at Dallas with its ears pinned against its head.

There was a note hiding underneath the cub, which Dallas picked up with his other hand. The message was simple:  _This is a male Smilodon fatalis. He's three and a half weeks old. Take good care of him, send pictures!_

Great. Dallas gently shifted his arm to simulate a rocking movement, wanting to keep the cub from yowling again. It was a miracle no one had come down to investigate, and the last thing he wanted was for someone to walk in on him holding a Smilodon cub in the crook of his arm like he'd just brought it home from the hospital. So this was what Dictator meant.

And suddenly, in that moment, Dallas Genoard had been thrust into fatherhood, unceremoniously and with no prior warning. This was going to be a long, long ride.


	2. Episode 2: Caretaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> forgive me of my sins

Dallas managed to placate the cub for a few hours. During that time, he frantically called Dictator, asking them what the hell this was all about and “why didn't you tell me first,” to which Dictator replied “I forgot.” And then, all the kid told him to do as far as caring for the cub was that he needed to be nursed every three hours. They'd been kind enough to provide formula in the box Dallas had been sent, along with an oddly-shaped bottle obviously not meant for human babies. But, that was about all he'd been sent, other than the blanket that the cub was currently wrapped in.

He didn't know when the cub had eaten last, but he got a rude reminder when he started to wail again. Dallas tried to set him down in the chair so he could properly make the bottle, but when the cub wasn't in his arms, he started to cry again. So, Dallas was forced to do it with one hand, holding the cub with the other. He'd started to suck on his own paw, which Dallas figured was probably the same as a human kid sucking on its thumb, and also told him that the cub was hungry. Thankfully, the formula didn't take long to make.

At first, Dallas feared that the cub would reject the bottle, but no such thing happened. Feeding seemed to be the only thing that went smoothly, as the cub guzzled down the bottle in about a minute. However, that meant that afterwards, the cub fell victim to a bout of hiccups, which brought on the crying yet again. Dallas tried to shush him as he held him against his shoulder, patting his back in order to relieve him, but the cub didn't stop crying until he finally burped. During that time, Dallas was able to hear the angry shouts and groaning of his neighbors, who most likely all had headaches at this point. None of them actually came to his door, though, which was a good thing.

Finally, after having to deal with the cub for hours, it seemed as though he was finally getting sleepy. Which was good, because Dallas was getting sleepy, too. As he thought about going to bed, he was struck with another realization: where was the cub going to sleep? The answer came more easily than he expected it to. With no other options, the cub would have to lay on the bed with him. Dallas sighed heavily as he resigned himself to this, gently settling the cub on the bed next to his pillow before laying down beside him. The cub seemed to gravitate towards Dallas, cuddling into the crook of his neck. He heard a soft, gentle purr start to rise from the cub's chest, and before he could stop himself, Dallas was smiling.

Maybe taking care of a Smilodon wouldn't be so hard, after all.

* * *

 

Three months went by relatively smoothly. Though the cub – whom Dallas had named Fang –was growing at a rapid pace, he wasn't causing much trouble. He wasn't even a particularly curious cub; he was content to let Dallas carry him around all day, or sit on the counter top and watch him do work. Dallas sent regular updates to Dictator to prove the cub was still alive through the mail. He happened to still have a Polaroid camera, which made it easy to keep track of the cub's growth. Still, he didn't think of himself as any kind of surrogate mother to the cub.

That was, of course, until one day in June when he was grinding up meat for the cub to eat. As nasty as it was, it had to be done. Normally, the cub's mother would chew it up a bit to make it easier for him to eat, but Dallas wasn't about to chew up raw meat. In-between grinding, it happened.

“Mama.”

That was definitely a voice, and it wasn't Dallas's. For a moment, he didn't want to turn around, in fear of what he would see. When he did finally turn to face Fang, it was very slow and cautious. “Did you – did you just –”

“Mama,” Fang repeated, looking at Dallas with what could only be described as a smile. Dallas thought he was going to fall over and die right there.

“No. No, you shouldn't be able to talk, cats don't talk, this is – I'm not your ma!” Dallas tugged at his hair in desperation. Fang seemed to find that funny, because then he laughed. That was also not a noise cats were supposed to make.

Dallas frantically called Dictator as soon as he reached his phone. As soon as they picked up, Dallas started yelling. “The cat is talking! Fang just spoke to me!”

“Ooooh,” Dictator said, drawing out the first syllable for a few seconds. “Yeah, they warned me about that. Apparently they accidentally made the experiments too smart. They have human intelligence now.”

“That's not a fucking accident!” Dallas was screeching like an eagle at this point, continuing to tug at his hair. A clump came off in his hand, but that wasn't surprising. He was surprised he wasn't straight up shedding at this point. “Why didn't you tell me!?”

“I forgot.” 

Dallas screamed yet again. “How do you forget!?”

“I have a lot to do.”

“That doesn't – fuck it. Forget it. I'll deal with it.” Dallas then hung up, and slammed his phone against the counter with a lot more force than was needed. Fang was still sitting on the other counter top, tilting his head at him.

“Mama?” Fang chirped again.

“Not Mama,” Dallas told him, or at least tried to. “If you're gonna call me something, try 'Pop.' I ain't your ma.”

“Mama!” Fang said with more conviction. The sound of his voice was strange, as if he was trying to meow while speaking. Well, he was still a cat, after all. That was the only thing that made sense in this clusterfuck of nonsense.

“Oh, fine,” Dallas muttered, throwing down his hands. “We'll work on that later. I mean, if you're just now fuckin' deciding to talk to me, you prob'ly don't know a whole lotta words.”

And so, Fang got his lunch, and all Dallas got was a headache.


	3. Episode 3: Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> don't worry dallas, it gets easier after the second one. just ask the duggars...wait

“Mama, food now!”

“It ain't ready yet.”

“Food now!”

“Cut it out, Fang.”

This was the routine the human-cat duo had fallen into. Once Fang had learned how to talk, it didn't seem like he was planning to stop. His vocabulary was growing almost at the same pace he was, which was quite astounding. Unfortunately, he was still a bit lacking in the grammar department, but that would come later. He was only five months old now, and already way ahead of human babies.

Currently, they were arguing over breakfast. It was a Friday, and about ten in the morning, which was much earlier than Dallas would like to be up. Unfortunately, Fang was an early riser, and if Dallas wanted to keep the apartment intact, he'd have to get up when the cub did. He was also a ferocious eater, though that was about the only thing “ferocious” about the gawky cub. He would eat almost anything, and was probably eating a lot more than Dallas was. This lead them to their current argument. Fang didn't want to wait for his breakfast anymore, and was now starting to meow loudly.

“ _Ugh,_ fuck it, fine, you can have a cookie. But only one cookie,” he muttered as he turned away from cutting up Fang's meat into manageable chunks. Like babies, young carnivores would often bite off more than they could chew, and the last thing Dallas wanted to be doing in the morning was the Heimlich on a Smilodon. Reaching into the jar of shortbread cookies he kept beside the stove, Dallas managed to give him the promised cookie just as the doorbell rang.

Dallas wasn't expecting anyone. His eyes narrowed, and he crouched down to face Fang. “Hey, Fang, hide behind the counter for a bit, 'kay? I gotta answer the door.”

“Yes, Mama.” Dallas sighed in relief when the cub didn't argue for once, and he slowly made his way to the door. He peeked out of the eyehole before opening it, and what he spotted gave him serious deja vu.

Another box sat just in front of his door, and it looked like the one that Fang had been delivered in.

* * *

Dallas wanted to wait to grab the box, but if there really was another animal inside of the box, he didn't want to just leave it out there. It was hot outside; what if it overheated or something? He convinced himself that his worry was more for his salary than anything else, but anyone else would say it was the mother in him showing itself. So, he opened the door, grabbed the box, and pulled it back inside.

“We got a box!” Fang said cheerfully when Dallas shut the door, judging it to be safe to trot over to him. “Open it, open it! Treats!”

“I sure hope so, buddy,” Dallas muttered, running his palm over the food. It was certainly a live animal crate, but maybe – just maybe – Dictator had sent him supplies in it? He wouldn't put it past the strange child scientist. Then again, this was probably all just wishful thinking, but no one would ever know for sure what was inside of the box until Dallas opened it.

Fang watched him the whole time with wide, expectant blue eyes. Dallas shut his own eyes when he pulled the top off of the box, and only once he'd set it down did he open them.

“Oh, shit,” Dallas said, his voice raising slightly in pitch as he spoke. Curled up inside of the box was an animal he actually recognized; a strange marsupial predator called the Thylacine. “Oh, Jesus – I'm gonna wring that kid's neck!”

“Show me, show me!” Fang demanded, getting up on his hind legs and putting his front paws on Dallas's leg. Realizing there was no way to get around this without explaining it to the cub, Dallas sighed heavily as he reached into the box to pull out the sleeping Thylacine, wrapping it in the blanket it came with. Another note at the bottom of the box told him that this pup was also a male, and also about three and a half weeks old. Compared to his “older brother,” he was tiny, so Dallas handled him with a gentle hand as he crouched again to let Fang see.

“Not a treat, buddy,” Dallas said as he showed the pup to the cub. Fang sniffed him critically, then pulled back and wrinkled his nose.

“Smells funny,” Fang muttered definitively as he sat down. Dallas stood back up and pressed his unoccupied hand to his temple, groaning while he tried to figure out what the hell he was gonna do with two de-extinct baby animals running around in his tiny apartment. Hell, he'd barely figured out what he was gonna do with Fang when he outgrew the tiny apartment, and now that he had two of them to figure out...

“New brother?” Fang's curious chirp brought Dallas back to the present. The cub was looking at him expectantly again, and Dallas shrugged.

“Yeah, new brother.”

“Name?”

Nice way to put him on the spot, Fang. As was made apparent by the cub's name, Dallas didn't exactly have a talent for naming things, but the pup was going to need a name. “Uh – how 'bout Charlie?”

“How 'Bout Charlie?”

“No, just Charlie.”

“Just Charlie?”

“ _Charlie_ ,” Dallas muttered exasperatedly. The pup in his arms continued to slumber on, as if oblivious to the scene unfolding around him. Maybe that would mean he would be easier to deal with than Fang. Fang would be the problem child, and Charlie would be the easy child – no, wait, none of them were children! Curse him for even thinking that! “Charlie. That's your brother's name.”

“Charlie,” Fang repeated. “Food now, Mama?”

“Yeah, food now,” Dallas replied, using his free hand to grab the plate of meat he'd cut up. “And later, we strangle Dictator. Then you can have them for dinner.”


	4. Episode 4: Cousin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is a cry for help

Dallas stayed true to his words. After getting the animals taken care of, he drove himself and them down to the mansion, in a barely-contained rage. He left the car running with the two babies curled up in the passenger side, sleeping peacefully; he was only going to be gone for maybe thirty seconds.

He didn't have to knock as he barged in through the door. He knew Dictator kept their door unlocked, but they weren't sitting in the main room like Dallas thought they would be. So, he turned to plan B.

“DICTATOR!” Dallas's voice echoed through the empty house, so there was no way the kid _couldn't_ hear him. And, lo and behold, speak the Devil's name and he will come. Dictator peered down at him from the upper railing of the second floor. Seemingly oblivious to the anger in Dallas's voice, they came down the stairs and walked up to him, tilting their head.

“Ye—” Dictator didn't even have time to get the word out of their mouth. Dallas reached over and picked them up like a sack of potatoes, throwing them over his shoulder and walking out of the door. “Hey! Hey, put me down you big oaf! What's the meaning of this?!”

“This is the meaning of this,” Dallas growled, putting them down in front of the passenger side door and pointing at the sleeping babies. Fang seemed to be curled protectively around Charlie, whose hind foot twitched as he slept. “You sent me _another one_ and ya' couldn't even fuckin' call first?! What the hell!”

“I thought you'd be expecting it,” Dictator shrugged, smoothing down their clothes. “I did tell you I'd be using you for storage.”

“Well obviously I WASN'T FUCKING EXPECTING IT!” His voice raised to an angry shriek. Still, the cub and pup slept peacefully inside, unaware of their “mother's” emotional breakdown. “I barely had space for one, and now I've got two!”

Dallas grabbed Dictator's shirt and shook them. “What am I supposed to do?” He said, punctuating his words in-between shaking the teenager.

“Hold on, hold on! Just let me go, I've got a plan—gghk!” One of Dallas's hands moved to the bottom of their throat, and Dictator gulped nervously. “A good plan?” The last part came out as a squeak.

“Will it make me happy?”

“Very happy.” Dictator shook their head as best as they could, fear present in their eyes. Grumbling, Dallas finally let them go.

“Let's talk then.” Dallas's voice was falsely sweet and dripping with venom. “And you owe me a big fuckin' favor.”

* * *

All four of the parties involved were now inside, with Dallas holding the sleepy babies, one in each arm. Fang was looking around the room drowsily, and Charlie had finally woken up, but made no noise as Dallas and Dictator faced off.

“I'm planning on getting someone to help you raise them,” Dictator said slowly. “But it'll probably take a while. And there are a lot more animals who're going to need taking care of.”

“How many?”

Dictator bit their lip at that question, then adjusted their glasses. “There's no telling, honestly, but – um – we've got five fetuses incubating right now. And um. Fifty viable embryos.”

“You've gotta be fucking kidding me,” Dallas growled. “I thought this conversation was supposed to _make me happy_?”

“It will, I promise!” Dictator said, throwing up their hands as if to protect themselves from Dallas's outbursts. “I'll get you anything you want, I swear!”

“Fine then. Buy me a house,” Dallas said flatly.

Dictator blinked at him a few times. “Uh...where?”

“That's for you to figure out. You're the one who got me in this mess, so you're the one who's gonna take me out of it.” He jabbed his finger at Dictator's face, and they leaned back to avoid it. “An' make it a big one. Away from the city, but not too far, 'cause I still gotta buy groceries an' shit. An' a lotta' space in the back.”

“How am I supposed to...” Dictator started to say, but they were cut off by a heated glare from Dallas. “Okay, fine. Consider it done.”

“Dinner, Mama?” Fang chirped after Dictator spoke, looking up at Dallas expectantly. Dallas looked over to Dictator.

“Cousin Dictator gets to make dinner tonight,” he said, eyes still trapping them in a glare. Dictator gave a long, slow whine in response, but dipped their head and scurried off to the kitchen.

Needless to say, they would text before any more boxes went to Dallas's doorstep.


	5. Moving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is getting out of control

Somehow, Dictator was able to find a house that matched Dallas's specifications within the next two weeks. Although he was shocked and somewhat suspicious about the whole thing, he decided not to question it. The sooner they got moved out, the better, in his mind. While Charlie was still mostly content to rest in his “mother's” arms, Fang was getting restless, and growing more adventurous by the day. Dallas had caught him trying to open the front door yesterday, which had naturally given him the fright of his life. Needless to say, the cub got a very stern talking-to, and Dallas was now watching him like a hawk.

The actual packing process didn't take very long. The bed frame and most of the furniture in the house didn't actually belong to him, so he only mostly had to worry about his mattress. While he didn't quite like the idea of not having a frame, it would have to do for a few days until he could buy a new one with his well-stocked bank account. Maybe he'd get himself a four-poster bed, elevated, with one of those veils around it, yeah...then he looked over at Fang and Charlie, and considered the other animals who would inevitably come, and decided against it. If Fang couldn't jump up on the bed with him, he'd likely try to climb up the veils, which would only end badly.

There were few personal items in the apartment which Dallas actually owned, other than his clothes. He had basic kitchen things, like a toaster and a blender, and some assorted jewelry (where did _that_ come from, it's not like _he_ bought it or anything, Eve must have left it when she was here of course), but not much else. And of course, Fang and Charlie didn't have much either. All in all, what they had could be fit into Old Faithful with a bit of pushing and shoving, so Dallas did that first before he had to take the riskiest part of this whole endeavor: getting the animals out.

Charlie was easy enough to conceal. Dallas could wrap him up in his jacket without much protest. Fang was a bit more difficult to convince.

“I don't wanna ride in the basket!” Fang said, stomping one of his front paws like the indignant child he was. “I wanna walk!”

“You can't walk,” Dallas replied sternly for the fiftieth time. Now he was starting to understand why his mother had gone grey early. She should probably be nominated for sainthood, he thought, for putting up with him and his siblings when they were young. “It's too dangerous, I already fuckin' told you, so get in the goddamn basket.”

“No!” The cub hollered, planting his hindquarters down firmly on the carpet. A low growl of annoyance came from the bottom of Dallas's throat, but he stopped to think for a minute. Then, he remembered an old trick he used to pull on Eve when he was trying to get her to follow his lead.

“Alright then,” Dallas said, sighing dramatically as he stood up. The basket stayed at his feet, and Charlie was being held carefully under his jacket and close to his chest. “But me an' Charlie gotta go. You can stay here an' take care of yourself if you want.”

Dallas only made it halfway to the door before Fang started to wail loudly, crying out “Mama, no! I'll do it I promise!” A small smirk made its way across his face as he turned around, going back to Fang.

“That's a good boy. Now, into the basket.” Reluctantly, the cub climbed in, and when he did, Dallas covered the top of the basket with a blanket. No one would ask questions; they'd probably assume he was transporting laundry or something. Even so, Dallas didn't relax until he'd gotten into the car, locked the door, and settled the babies in the front seat.

Well, Dallas figured, it was about time he stopped fighting against being a mother hen.

* * *

 

Dallas was expecting the house to be nice, but he wasn't expecting what he got. Dictator was sitting outside of the house on the porch, which was just as incredible as the house behind them. It looked almost exactly like Dictator's own home: three stories, but with a brick face, and large, beautiful windows.

“Wow,” Fang gasped when Dallas let him out of the car. Charlie was awake, but he didn't seem to appreciate the house like Dallas and Fang did. Actually, it seemed Fang was less impressed with the house, and more impressed with the yard. “There's so much grass! It's so big, Mama!”

“Yeah, it's even better inside, buddy,” Dallas told him, still slightly nervous about letting the cub run around outside. After all, there could still be someone watching from the shadows or something. Was that logical? Probably not, but Dallas wasn't thinking about logical. So, he ushered the cub into the house, and looked at Dictator on the porch.

“Alright, let's get this straight,” Dallas told them. “This house ain't haunted or nothin', right?”

“Nope.”

“It ain't controlled by some weird magical shit, right?”

“Nu-uh. I'm a scientist, not a witch.”

“And there ain't nothin' wrong with it?”

“It's perfectly sound.”

“Good. An' if anything _does_ go wrong with it...” Dallas trailed off, tracing his finger around his neck threateningly. Dictator gulped. Satisfied that he'd gotten his message across, Dallas walked into the house, then set Charlie down on the floor of the main room. It was huge, and fashioned in a circular style, with windows in the front and back clearly showing the pool out back.

Fang ran over to the glass and put his front paws on it, bracing his weight against them. “What's that Mama? A big water bowl?”

Dallas felt chills run down his spine, but he swallowed back his initial reaction and said, albeit shakily, “Well, it's kinda' like that. It's a pool, people swim in it when it's hot.”

“Can I go swim in it?”

“Fang, it's August, and it's fuckin' cold,” Dallas sighed exasperatedly. “I don't think you wanna get a cold, an' I don't wanna have to deal with it. It's a lose-lose situation, buddy.”

“Aww, no fair,” Fang whined, pinning his ears against his head. At the same time, he let out a mighty yawn, and Charlie who had toddled over on his tiny legs to join him yawned as well. No matter how advanced they were compared to other animals, they were still babies, and Dallas knew it was time to get to bed, anyway. The babies were tired, and although it was relatively early, Dallas would have no choice but to sleep with them. If he dared to lay them down while he wasn't in bed with them, the resulting chorus of screams would bring people ten miles away running.

And so, after he unceremoniously dragged his mattress into one of the first-floor bedrooms with Dictator's help, then told them to get lost so he could sleep, then finally carried the completely exhausted babies into the room, setting them down on the bed. Charlie was out cold as soon as he curled up on the bed. Fang didn't settle down until Dallas fell on the bed, sighing softly as the cub curled up against him.

At least, for now, it was quiet.


End file.
